A power He Knows Not
by TheGreatHibiki
Summary: A power he knows not. That's an awful broad statement there. What's one of the many things that could even mean? A one shot crack fic. Perhaps a series of One shots. Who knows.


A Power he knows not.

By

Hibiki

"All rights with their respective holders. I'm just fiddling about."

* * *

"Hurry, Harry! He's coming!" Hermione called out into the gloom that was the_ Room of Requirement_. The seventh time he had faced his parent's killer was at hand. However things had changed. Harry was older now, nearly 18. His life had taken from a most humble beginning, though the cause was Albus Dumbledore's doing more than any thing. From the moment he had first arrived at the castle he had felt a kinship with it's warm and enchanting towers, it's long looming depths, and it's people. Even despite the dangers brought to him from those willing and able to breach her defenses, Hogwarts was without a doubt his home. The most noticeable of these attempts could be seen by the blast that had damaged the room so profusely. A blast that had removed all but the last two ties to this plane from Voldemort. It was from her core, at the seventh floor across from the tapestry of a wizard being trampled by magical beasts. Here, from the remains of the original form of the room, searched a young man. He searched for a certain box he was sure would have survived the fiend fyre that had engulfed the room and had almost stunted the old Castle's abilities. The castle numerous times had brought the box before him, when he had on whims asked for items to defeat his foe. It was unique, and understanding the items in it had actually come from watching a series of rather gruesome films of a mob family in America's torrid past his uncle and cousin had devoured almost as greedily as their meals.

The smoke was growing more thin, but the darkness of the room was still too great to make details from the ashes of the come and go room. It seemed as though the magic that had sustained and allowed the room to change had been ripped apart, and yet again more sadness filled him. But time to mourn had to come later. He had to finish his mission. Something moved in the side of his vision drawing his attention. There it was, partially slagged by the heat it was only now cooling down. Before it was a ghostly apparition of a young waif-like woman. She was quite nude, he realized, and thankfully given the fact she was kneeling away from him nothing was too exposed. She laid a hand upon the box, and the item suddenly returned to all it's former glory. Her large mirror like eyes turned to him, giving a tired smile, then faded away from view. He ran forward, touching the spot the girl had and felt an all too familiar tingle. The same tingle he had when he first laid eyes on Hogwarts. He gave a small smile, thanking his home for her help then unlatched the heavy metal lid from the rest. Inside the old lubricant and metal smelling crate a now familiar shape could be seen. He reached for it and the items beside it.

* * *

Hermione and Ron had pulled back from the door to better cover having been caught off guard by the pincher movement the Death Eaters had pulled on them. Spells and objects moved back and forth as the two held back to give more time to their friend inside the burnt out room.

Ron was knocked against the wall, his head slick with blood from the impact. Hermione had a blade in her shoulder that had been conjured then banished as a group of a dozen or more. Grim realization that it wasn't looking too likely they would survive much longer took hold. Tears filled Hermione's eyes as she slumped back against the tide of spell fire into the shallow alcove she had been using, exhausted.

[Cklach-tchk!] The sound of something metal cocking then sliding home roused her draining consciousness to the blasted out door. In fact the hallway was silent as even the Death Eaters waited on baited breath for this newest threat. From the darkness came a chattering roar and a wave of red light into those who had been stalking Ron. In an instant, all four had been taken down. The ones on the right reacted but not fast enough as the roar erupted again, closer to the exit and two of the five on the right slumped like string-less puppets. From the shadows strode Harry, soot covered and looking every bit as grim as she did but with one major difference. In his hands was an iconic looking weapon that she had trouble understanding how he had procured it. He strode to her, taking her hand and pulling her up gently as he kept the gun trained on the corner Voldemort's minions had fled. As she carefully rose, the up close view allowed the inscription engraved in the weapon to be shown.

**THOMPSON SUBMACHINE GUN**

**CALIBERE .45 M1A1**

The blade ripped from her shoulder brought her focus to the tearing sensation but before she could let out a scream a warm coolness of Harry's healing spell broke over her. From her special bag she pulled a vial of blood replenishing potion and downed it's contents as Harry checked over Ron. A crackle of broken rock brought the three's attention to the corner again and Harry's gun into firing position. A silver gleam of a Death Eater mask peered around the wall and with a well placed shot that figure pitched forward into the hallway. A few more shots ripped parts away from the wall and gave enough time for Harry to eject the spent clip and produce from his pocket another magazine. Hermione had never fired, let alone seen a gun before in her life, but had common knowledge that most bullets were made of lead or steel, not coalesced balls of red light.

"It was modified apparently before it was dumped into the room." Harry commented as he slid the long magazine home and loaded the first round into the chamber. "I think it was used during the war to educate students on weapons used by muggles. I remember Dumbledore mentioning something of it."

"Bloody loud." Ron commented as he cleaned the blood from his now healed forehead. "Why did you have to go look for that terror anyway?" Harry smirked as he rose up leading his small band of friends towards the wall. He primed the weapon then took the corner, finding only an empty corridor waiting for them.

"I think a Tommy-gun might be something Voldemort wouldn't have a right clue about." Harry said, turning the corner to find the remaining two Death Eaters had run off. "Besides. I want to give Tom an offer he can't refuse." Ron blinked not understanding the badly done accent Harry produced as he used the shoulder strap to take the heft of the rather heavy gun. Hermione merely rolled her eyes.

* * *

There is so much that could be construed as 'a power he knows not' hell Harry holding the little red button of doom could be considered that. But frankly I never gave much thought to the books after HBP and never really had interest after the Goblet of Fire.

Aka, I'm a Harmony fan. And for all intents and purposes I never saw one lick of anything but harmony until she[Rowling] went on hiatus between GoF and OoTP. Then her writing style changed and so did everything in the book, and I don't mean attitude (get there is a war going on then but not my meaning). The following books didn't have the same interest to me as the first four and frankly DH felt like really bad fan fiction than an actual novel. Again, personal opinion here. So it's funny my first completed little HP ficlit turns out to be set during DH.

But I just had this urge to run with it. Because Harry Potter using a Tommy Gun on Tommy Boy just felt silly enough to do.


End file.
